The Grave of Spirits
by Morna
Summary: Eight years have passed since the defeat of Ozai, but things are not as well as they seem. Zuko finds himself falling for a woman he cannot have, the Avatar's wife, Katara; while Azula plots to take back her throne, using sinister means.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Read, enjoy, and review.**

Heat. Flames. That's all the world was. Reality danced and shimmered as the air twisted and coiled above the fingers of fire. She sucked in a breath only to end up coughing as the oily black smoke invaded her lungs. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see more flames ringing her. It was pointless. She had to turn around and go back. She had to run the other way. It was the only intelligent option. If she stayed here she would surely die. Here she was powerless. The fire consumed the entire earth, and it never seemed satisfied. It marched on across field after field, reducing harvests to piles of ashes.

She took a faltering step forward to head away from the fire before it circled around her completely and cut off any exit. Another step. Another. Fleeing, she was fleeing this place. The boiling heat at her back only spurred her on. She was a fool for even being here in the first place. Why had she been here? Any home that she might have had was burnt to cinders. Then she remembered. There was something here, something dear and precious. Her feet stopped, and she rested her hands on her knees to take a deep breath. She stood and looked over her shoulder towards the glowing sea of flames. She had to go back. Of their own volition, her feet turned her to face the flames. Like the undercurrents of a great river, she was drawn to the fire. What she wanted laid just beyond the curtain of fire, and if she didn't hurry up it might not be there when she got there.

She exhaled and stepped into the fire.

The breath burst out of her as Katara sat up in bed, swiveling her head around from side to side as she frantically looked for any flames. There were none. There was the only cool, deep dark of her room and the chirping of cricket-nightingales. She sighed and bent a stream of water from the basin on the nightstand into the palm of her hand. The water glided from her hand to her face, relieving the all too real heat of her dream. Dark curls of her hair were plastered to her forehead and neck. She drew the sweat from her locks, depositing it back into the basin.

Sliding out from underneath the sheets and covers, she paced silently across the room and unlocked the sliding doors that led out onto the back porch. Autumn's chilling bite was a welcome, bracing surprise as a breeze blew the hair back from her face. The water bender leaned into it, letting the familiar cold wash away the memories of her nightmare. She would have given anything at that moment to be back at the South Pole, to see miles of white tundra in front of her, to hear the lonely call of an arctic wolf-bear.

The sound of rustling fabric and a drowsy voice broke her reverie. Katara looked over her shoulder to see Aang sitting up in bed, rubbing one eye with a knuckle.

"Dream, again?" he asked sleepily.

She nodded, sliding the doors shut and closing the top of her robe. It suddenly seemed unbearably cold in the room.

"The same one?" He stretched his arms over his head and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

"Yeah," she said, tucking her hair behind one ear and taking a seat on the bed beside him.

The Avatar threw one arm around her shoulders, comfortingly rubbing her upper arm with his hand. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, twining her fingers between his.

"It's always about fire?"

"Always. I'm surrounded by it," she muttered to herself, careful not to let more slip. Katara never mentioned the fact that she always _went_ into the fire. It would worry Aang too much. She also conveniently left out the detail that there was something on the other side of the fire that drew her towards it. There was something inside her that said this wasn't something to share with the Avatar, her husband.

"Maybe it's an omen," he said, giving her shoulder a tender squeeze.

She cringed at the words. If it was an omen it certainly didn't seem to portend good news. "I certainly hope not," she sighed as she stood up and smoothed out the folds of her robe.

"You've never had a gift for prophecy before?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"No. Does it look like I'm turning into Aunt Wu to you?" She placed her fists on her hips and made a mocking face of the old woman.

Aang laughed that bright, ringing sound that Katara loved. He ran one hand over his bald head, his grey eyes getting lost in memory. "No, you don't; but I remember a point in time when you would have loved to be able to predict the future."

Katara blushed with embarrassment at the memory. "I don't think I could handle it. Especially, if there was someone like me around to constantly ask about their future. I must have driven that poor woman crazy."

"Do you think her predictions were accurate?" he asked, his face afraid.

Katara knew that expression. They'd had this conversation before. Aunt Wu's prediction still troubled Aang. "To an extent," she answered, sitting down beside him. "But I also believe in Sokka's theory that we make our own destiny. Just because she said something will happen doesn't mean it's set in stone. Don't worry about it, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll try not to," he said helplessly, looking up from his hands to her.

"Good. Now, you should get some rest; otherwise, you'll go crazy," she teased as she stood up.

"You're not coming back to bed?" he asked, his tone disappointed.

Katara shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. "No, I don't think I'll be able to sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. I'm just going to sit up do some reading, maybe practice my bending."

"Oh," he sighed as he laid back down, "well, see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied as she walked towards the door that led out of their bedroom.

"Katara," Aang called out.

She stopped with her hand on the frame. "Hmm?"

"Do you remember what Aunt Wu predicted for you?"

"No, Aang, that was over eight years ago," she lied.

"Alright," he said, breaking off with a yawn. "Goodnight, I love you."

"I love you," she whispered as she pulled the door open and stepped out of the room.

* * *

Morning came on swift and silent wings. Katara was surprised to see the rosy light of the rising sun filtering through the open windows. Closing the scroll, she got up and wandered over to admire the view. Outside, green, verdant hills rolled out before her like the waves of an ocean. It was only early fall, and so the hills hadn't turned brown yet. The chill only came late at night. In the distance, she could see a small range of mountains looming against the brightening sky. The fertile land was crisscrossed with small brooks and wooden fences that marked the boundaries between different farms. She sighed and rested her elbows on the windowsill, taking in the simple beauty of the place.

The village was a nice place to live, to raise a family, and to run a farm. The people were kind and the land was rich. However, the place was isolated, cut off from the rest of the world. The only real interaction that the place got from the outside world was the ferry that ran once a month from the mainland of the Earth Kingdom to the small island. It made Katara almost miss her days in the bustling, overcrowded city of Ba Sing Se.

Her eyes narrowed as a thin shape emerged from the light of the rising sun. She leaned forward on her arms to try and get a better look at the small figure. Gradually, it grew larger until she could make out the familiar shape of a bird. Any minute she expected it to turn away and alight on a tree branch somewhere; but it kept flying towards her small house, never wavering from its direct course. As it flew closer, Katara recognized it as a Fire Nation messenger hawk.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched it dip and dive on the air currents. She hadn't heard anything from the Fire Nation in nearly two years, and hadn't seen Zuko or Iroh in four. She saw the small strip of paper curled around the creature's leg. Her mouth went dry. This could only mean bad news. Something horrible must have happened. What if Iroh was sick? What if he was about to die? What if Zuko was injured?

The bird glided towards the open window on graceful wings, perching on the wooden sill. The hawk cocked its head to the side to study her, its golden eyes never blinking as it seemed to scrutinize every last detail of her face. Cautiously, she reached out and unfurled the small piece of parchment from its leg, careful to keep an eye on its beak. Messenger hawks weren't always the friendliest creatures. When she retrieved the message, she shooed the bird from the sill and shuttered the window.

Turning on her heel, she unrolled the scroll and read over the messy calligraphy. Zuko had written this himself, she'd know that sloppy style anywhere. A sigh of relief escaped her when she reached the end. It was invitation to a masquerade party in honor of Ozai's defeat. Had it really been eight years? Was she already twenty-two? She felt so old all of a sudden.

She took a seat on a pillow and reread the message. The Fire Prince's tone was cool and distant. He must have felt those years separating them as keenly as she did. Her heart ached for a moment as she felt the voids in her life where Toph, Sokka, and even Zuko had been. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. It might be the only chance of having them all together once again.

Shuffling feet broke her thoughts as Aang entered the room, covering his mouth as he yawned. "You're up early," Katara said as she rolled the piece of paper in her hand.

Aang shrugged and collapsed onto a pile of pillows beside her. "Couldn't sleep. It felt weird without you there."

She smiled at him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Hmm, some congee sounds good right about now," he said.

"Alright," Katara said as she hopped and headed towards the kitchen. "Would you mind lighting the fire in the oven for me?"

"Sure," he answered, pointing one hand towards the open door of the iron stove. A spurt of fire shot from his fingers to the wood inside the stove. Katara beamed at him and shut the door.

She hummed as she guided the water from the jug in the corner of the room into the pot in her hands.

"You're in a really good mood for someone who got no sleep," Aang said offhandedly.

She shrugged and set the pot on the eye of the stove, pouring in the rice. "You want some sea prunes?"

Aang grimaced, holding his hand to his mouth as he remembered the taste of them. "Umm, no thanks."

"I thought you liked my sea prunes," she pouted as she watched the water come to a boil.

"I-I do but that's just too sweet for breakfast, don't ya think?'

"I suppose you're right," she answered.

"So what's got you into such a good mood?" Aang asked, trying to change the subject.

"You want some ginger root in it?" She drew out the knobby plant from a pantry beside the stove, cutting it up with a precise chop of her water bending.

"Sure, but you still haven't answered my question," he said in a suspicious voice. He gave her an odd look as she dumped the bits of root into the mixture to simmer.

"Well, I received a message this morning," she answered casually as she stirred the porridge.

"From who?"

"Zuko."

"Zuko?" Aang's eyebrows shot up as he sat up on his elbows to get a better look at her.

"Yep."

"What did he want?"

"He's invited us to attend a masquerade party in honor of the anniversary of Fire Lord Ozai's defeat," Katara said, never taking her eyes off of the cooking.

"Oh really?" Aang inquired, his voice lilting in excitement.

Katara nodded.

"Do you think we should go?"

"You are the one who defeated Ozai. You should at least show up to see Zuko and Iroh. Everyone else will be there as well. Toph. Sokka," she said nonchalantly.

Aang's eyes went wide at the mention of their names. "Well, it would be nice to see all of them again. I just-"

"What?" Katara asked a bit too sharply, looking up from the pot.

"It'll be weird with all of those people there. They'll treat me like I'm some kind of hero," he said helplessly.

"You are, Aang," Katara quietly said from the kitchen.

"I know, but I never wanted to be. Everyone will act like I'm better than them, and I'm not. I just hate it when people act so awkward around me, and then there's all the politics. That stuff just makes my head spin." The Avatar leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his palms to his forehead.

"Aang, it won't be that bad. We'll get to see everyone. Don't you miss Toph and Sokka?" She felt guilty for doing this to him, but she hadn't seen her brother in nearly a year.

"I do," he said looking up, "but, still. If you want to you can go without me. I know how much you miss them."

She bit her lip and exhaled through her nose. "They'll wonder why you didn't go. They'll be hurt when they find out that you aren't with me. It won't be for long, just a few days. You don't have to talk to anyone besides us if you don't want to, okay? Just do it for me please?"

His hands dropped away from his face, hanging uselessly between his knees. "You want me to go that badly?"

She nodded.

"Alright, I'll go, but just to see the others. Let Zuko handle the politics."

"Sounds great," Katara said cheerfully. "We should get packing soon. The celebration is only a few days away."

**Prologue to my Zutara story that I introduced in the one-shot Hearts and Thoughts. I changed one thing though. I decided to make Zuko simply Fire Prince and Iroh Fire Lord for plot purposes in the story. Aang and Katara are really married. I'm sorry if anyone is uncomfortable with this idea, but it's too integral to the plot for me to change it. Well, I hope you guys liked it. Review and tell me what you think. I always appreciate constructive criticism. By the way, this title is vulnerable to change. I just kind of thought it up so I wouldn't put "untitled".**


	2. Chapter 1: Hearts and Thoughts

Chapter 1: Hearts and Thoughts

Katara leaned over the side of Appa's saddle, watching the seas and rocky islands blend into a blur below her. The wind blew back from the hair from her face, bringing the scent of sea spray to her nose. She inhaled, exhilaration racing through her at the prospect of seeing all of her old friends again. Shades of orange and red flooded the sky as the sun sank into the ocean. The smaller islands of the Fire Nation began to shrink in size as they passed over the first bay and into the second that led to the mainland. Katara thought she could see the vague outline of the Fire Nation Palace.

"How much longer do you think it'll be?" she asked over the roar of the wind.

"I don't know. Maybe another hour or two," Aang yelled back, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

She sighed and shook her head at the chilly tone of his voice. The Avatar hadn't said it right out, but Katara knew he was aggravated. Aang wanted to keep his life quiet and simple. He didn't want to get involved in the hassle of politics as the nations squabbled with each other. He felt that he'd done enough by simply saving the world and defeating Ozai. Katara had to agree with him. The moment anyone else found out he was there at the Fire Nation Palace he would be bombarded with requests, questions, and invitations.

The two hours that it took to reach the palace passed slowly and silently for the couple. With a bellow, Appa landed in a cleared courtyard on the side of the palace. Servants clad in the traditional black and red of the Fire Nation waited patiently as the two guests dismounted from the flying bison. Katara tossed their luggage down to Aang, his face annoyed as the servants started moving towards Appa.

"You guys don't worry I can take care of Appa myself," The Avatar bit off as he shot one a dirty look who had moved to take Appa's rein.

The young man said nothing, bowed his head, and took a few respectful steps back. The water bender slung the last bag over her shoulder and hopped off. Aang's hands found her waist to steady her.

"If you would," a middle age woman started as she stepped forward from the others, "Fire Lord Iroh has ordered us to see your . . .steed to the stables." She bowed at the waist.

"Stable?" Aang said in disgust. "Does it look like Appa would fit in a stable?" He threw his hand out in a broad gesture to the flying bison.

"Forgive me, Avatar," the woman apologized while staying bent at the hip. "I was unclear. The Fire Lord has had a special stable built for Appa. It's really more of a barn than anything."

He blew a breath out through his nose.

"C'mon Aang," Katara said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You know Iroh and Zuko both love Appa. They will give him nothing but the best care and it's just for a few days."

"I guess you're right. I just don't like to see him cooped up. He gets kind of skittish around enclosed spaces, ever since the sand benders."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, and I'm sure you'll be able to visit him a little later once we get settled in."

Aang nodded and turned to bow in the Fire Nation to the woman. "Forgive me for my rudeness. I'm sorry if I gave you any offense."

The female servant straightened from her hunched position, her black eyebrows shooting up towards her graying hairline. "No, of course, Avatar, it's perfectly fine. I understand. We will give your Appa only the finest care."

"Please, call me Aang," he said as he stood up.

She nodded, her mouth quirking into a smile, and began to organize the others to lead Appa to the stable. The flying bison gave a low moan but went peacefully with the servants.

Katara and Aang were about to follow three young women to their rooms when a voice stopped them.

"Why if it isn't Twinkle Toes and Sugar Queen," Toph drawled.

"Toph!" they both yelled.

The earth bender waved as she shouldered her pack and walked towards them.

"Long time, no see," Aang said casually.

Toph raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"Well, I mean I guess you never saw. . .I-"

"Just forget it," Toph answered, punching him in the arm.

Aang winced and rubbed his arm. "Glad to see you haven't changed," he mumbled.

She shrugged and walked past them towards the group of anxious servants. "C'mon let's get moving. I've been stuck on a stinkin' boat all day. I'm ready to drop this crap off and get to my room."

Aang and Katara exchanged a glance but followed after their blind friend. The three women greeted them demurely, took their as many of the bags as they could manage, and guided them to the suite of rooms prepared for them.

Katara set down her bags and looked around the room. Her and Aang's room was just down the hall from Toph's. It had two sets of sliding doors, one that led out into the hallway that connected them to the western wing of the palace and another that looked onto a small, private courtyard with a pond. Katara had a hunch that Iroh had specially arranged this so that both she and Toph could practice their bending in peace. The room itself was simple and elegant. The furniture was sleek and stylish, which Katara found unusual. All that she had seen of the Fire Nation fashion was bold and dramatic. This seemed to be more to Zuko's modest taste.

Aang stretched his arms over his and looked around the room. "I like it."

Katara nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's nice. I was afraid the accommodations would be a little . . .overwhelming."

She began to unpack her clothes and other belongings and stow them away in the wardrobe and dresser located on the opposite side of the room. The Avatar went about taking out his own things and putting them up, being extra cautious with his glider.

"Hey, do you guys know where I can find any food around here?" a familiar voice said from the entrance.

Katara dropped the robe she'd been folding, shot to her feet, and ran to her brother. "Sokka!" she exclaimed as she looped her arms around the middle of his back.

"Nice to see you too, Katara," he gasped.

"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly as she stepped back from him and craned her neck to see up into his face. "I still can't believe you're so tall." After the invasion, the boys had grown like weeds, but Sokka had shot up well past the height of her father. Even though her brother was no longer a teenager, he was still lanky and his hands and feet seemed too big for the rest of his body.

"I've been this height for a while now," he answered.

"I know it's just that it's been so long since I've seen you." She poked her finger through a hole in his blue tunic, wrinkling her nose as she spotted an old stain. "This shirt looks terrible. Has Suki finally gotten fed up with doing your laundry?"

"You could say that," Sokka said. His face fell into a scowl for a moment before he forced a grin across his face.

Katara's eyes narrowed. "Is she here?"

"No."

"Where is she?"

Sokka shrugged and stepped out into the hallway. "I don't know. Anyways, I'm going to go find some food. I'm sure Zuko keeps this place well stocked."

Katara's hand shot out and grabbed the back of her brother's tunic. "Sokka what's going on? What happened with you and Suki? You two were so happy the last time I saw you," she whispered under her breath so the servants wouldn't hear her.

"Well how long ago was that? Ten months or more?" Sokka glared at her.

She drew her hand back from him.

He sighed and rubbed the side of his face with his hand. "Listen, Katara I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault that we don't get to see each other much anymore but things between me and Suki changed. It's a long story. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Alright. Good luck finding food." Katara turned her back on him and marched back into the room.

"What's going on?" Aang said from the inside of a chest.

"Everything's fine," she growled as she carelessly shoved a pile of blue clothing into one of the drawers. Katara couldn't stand it when the people she cared about kept things from her, especially Sokka. He was her only brother. If he couldn't tell her everything, who could?

"Doesn't sound like everything's fine." The airbender closed the lid on the chest and propped himself against its edge.

"It's Sokka," she said in a frustrated voice. "Something happened between him and Suki, and he won't tell me."

"He doesn't have to tell you if he doesn't want to," the avatar replied sagely.

"But he's my brother! Don't I have a right to know what's going on in his life?"

"If Sokka thinks you have a right to know he'll tell you," Aang said.

Katara shot him a look full of venom.

"I'm sure he'll tell you later. It's probably just painful for him to talk about right now," he tacked on.

'You're probably right. I'm just not used to him keeping things from me. We've always been so close." She sighed and took the clothes out of the drawer, folding them in her lap before placing them in properly.

"Just give it time." He came up behind her and placed a kiss at her temple. "But he did have a point. I'm starving. How do we find the kitchens?"

Katara laughed. "We're not eating right now."

"What?!"

"There will be more than enough at the party tonight. We should save our appetites until then."

Aang groaned and flopped back on the bed.

* * *

Zuko raised his hand and signaled for the servants standing discreetly against the wall to disassemble the banquet table and couches while the guests retreated to the private chambers of the palace. They bowed their heads deferentially to him as they scurried from their positions and quickly cleared away the porcelain platters of roast duck, steamed fish, and other lavish dishes he'd had prepared for this occasion. He'd spared no expense this night, calling in every favor and using ever ounce of influence he and his uncle carried. The party was intended to make a statement, to further distance himself from the legacy of his father's reign. Zuko's relation to Ozai still tainted him in the eyes of many, and there was no mistaking the resemblance between the two. Without his scar, the present Fire Lord was nearly the spitting image of his predecessor. It almost made him thankful for it, almost. It had been Iroh who suggested the masquerade ball in addition to the banquet and other festivities. It would help to separate Zuko from his father both in physical appearance and disposition. Ozai would have never indulged in something as frivolous as a masquerade ball, and Zuko wasn't that keen on the idea himself. However, it was too good of an opportunity to glean information from potential enemies to pass up.

He sighed as he monitored the activities of the servants carefully stacking away the plates and sections of the table to be cleaned in the kitchens. When all seemed to be in order, he turned and headed for a side door that led through a narrow, dark corridor into his personal chambers. Lighting the tip of his index finger, he examined the coiling iron lock that wound itself over the door frame and barred entry to anyone who might stumble across this passage way. Zuko normally kept a heavy wardrobe in front of it just incase someone skilled enough happened to find their way there. Tonight, he'd moved the chest so he could easily sneak in, don his costume, and sneak out before anyone noticed.

He placed his finger on the inside of the metal tube and shot a finger of flame into it, just hot enough to trigger the inner mechanism. The temperature had to be just right or else the lock would somehow activate a small bell on the inside of the room to alert anyone in there. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked. He had little time to examine things like that these days. The lock clicked free, and he pushed it open with the toe of his boot.

Out of habit, he checked the room for any would be assassins, his eyes rolling up to ceiling. _That's what usually gets people_, he thought, _they never look above them._ Of course, there was nothing there. The palace was heavily guarded. Ozai had turned it almost into a fortress during his time as Fire Lord.

Now certain that no one was lurking in the room, Zuko shut the door and reactivated the lock. He knelt down on the floor and lifted up a polished wooden panel that served as storage space. A package laid inside was wrapped in crimson papier-mâché and twine. His fingers plucked at the knot and carefully folded away the layers of wrapping. The Blue Spirit mask grinned up at him demonically, almost begging him to put it on. He'd managed to find another one almost identical to the one he'd thrown in Lake Laogai. The Blue Spirit had become something of a folk hero amongst the commoners with the fall of Ozai. Zuko smiled to himself as he ran his fingers over one carved fang, many others would be dressed as the renowned outlaw as well. No one would have any idea that one of them was the Prince slinking among them.

He stood up and unbuttoned the top of his formal robes, tossing the heavy layers of clothing onto his low bed. He rolled his shoulders in gratitude to finally be out of those confining things. Being Prince had its perks, but clothing was not one of them. Zuko slipped into the pants and shirt quickly, sliding a small dagger into the band of his sash. No one was allowed to carry weapons during the celebration, but he thought it better to be safe than sorry. He hid another one in his right boot as he slipped them on. He studied himself in a mirror for a moment to make sure that nothing gave him away. Then he picked up the mask and placed it in front of his face, slowly tying it in the back. When he looked at his reflection again, he didn't recognize himself. It'd been years since he'd worn this disguise. It was like he'd become another person. Here was a character wholly outside of convention, something elemental that would not bow to the creeds of men. His hands began to itch for his broadswords at the prospect of such freedom.

_You have to give up that life, you idiot,_ he thought bitterly as he stared at the grinning face in the mirror. But just for tonight he could revel in it again. Zuko turned away from the mirror and kicked the wooden panel back into place. He walked to the door way, opened the door, and shut it quietly behind him. Stealthily, he crept back down the corridor and gently nudged the door open before he snuck out into the main dining room, now converted into a makeshift dance hall. Scattered throughout the room were small clusters of nobles and guests mingling together. They all wore costumes, most incredibly gaudy and elaborate. For a moment Zuko feared that he was the only Blue Spirit, when he espied several blue devilish masks floating around the room, each uniquely carved. He let out a deep breath in relief and began to make his way through the room. No dancing had started yet, though a band sat playing in a corner. The Fire Nation had been suppressed for so long that it came as no surprise to him that they found it hard to enjoy themselves. He couldn't even remember seeing anyone dance until he'd left the palace at 13.

He slithered between the groups of guests, keeping his ears alert for anything that might sound suspicious; until, he reached a corner of the room thrown into shadow. Until the crowd started mingling more, he wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against a wall and simply watched the party goers. Occasionally, someone might sway on their feet to the rhythm of a small lap drum, but no one dared actually to dance. Finally, someone managed to gather up enough courage to approach a noblewoman wearing a badger-mole mask to dance. The two bowed to each other and extended one hand out to the other, their palms pressing against each other in the air. The drum player slowed the tempo of his playing to match their stiff movements as they spun and bowed before the intrigued eyes of their peers. Soon others joined in and mimicked their movements. The dance soon grew into something smooth and graceful, and Zuko could not help but be reminded of the movements of a tiger-snake.

He watched them dance with grudging fascination. He'd never been much of a dancer himself. He was incredibly inept when it came to social situations like this. The thought of dancing made a lump form in his stomach. It was better just to watch and take note of the others festivities. He dimly wondered where Aang and the others were. He'd sent them personal invitations, but he hadn't spotted them at dinner. He'd been busy meeting dignitaries and making small talk with spoiled nobility. The Fire Lord felt a twinge of disappointment at their absence. He hadn't seen or heard much from them in years.

Zuko soon got lost in his own thoughts as he was prone to do. Uncle was constantly chiding him about daydreaming in the presence of others who might easily take offense at the slight insult. _Surely, Sokka would come. I made sure to include the fact that there would be free food_, he mused. A hand on his forearm pulled him out of his reverie.

He blinked in confusion as a young woman stood smiling expectantly in front of him. Her face was partially hidden by a thin veil of tattered gauze hanging from a farmer's hat, but he could make out a face painted with red whorls on her cheeks, eyes, lips, neck, and shoulders. Thick, brown hair framed a face and a pair of blue eyes that shined up at him. His breath caught in his throat for a moment at her surprising arrival. Something nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but there was something about her.

"So are you going to say anything?" she asked in a low voice.

"Like what?" he answered in an annoyed tone.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and placed a fist on her hip. "Like hello for starters," she replied curtly.

He shrugged. "Hello."

She rolled her eyes but smiled at his stubbornness. "I saw you standing over here all alone. Everyone's dancing, but you and me," she said innocently.

"What's your point?"

"Ugh, c'mon," she grunted in disgust as she offered him her hand.

"I. Don't. Dance," he hissed through gritted teeth. He couldn't help but admit to himself that she was attractive and the offer was tempting, but Zuko didn't dance for anyone with anyone.

"Listen, if it makes you feel any better I'm a little self-conscious to about this sort of stuff, but it's really fun once you get into it," she encouraged.

"You're not going to go away until I do, are you?" he sighed while he rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Nope," she answered confidently.

"Fine, but just _one_ dance and then we're through," he mumbled as she dragged him along by the hand to the well-lit dance floor.

"Whatever you say," she said in a placating voice, a smile playing at the edge of her red lips.

_I'm going to regret this_, he said silently to himself.

She stood across from her and pressed her hand against his gloved one. Despite the layer of cloth between their hands, he could still feel the heat coming from her palm. She bowed her head forward to him. He repeated the gesture. Then she dipped back, her long hair swinging out behind her. He watched each movement carefully, trying his best to imitate her. She crossed her foot with his and then spun away, leaving him standing stunned for a moment. She laughed at his confusion, but soon he copied her. They stood across from one another, slowly moving in circles that grew smaller and smaller.

The feeling that he was being watched gradually disappeared as he lost himself in the pacing of the dance. His eyes only focused on the fluid movement of her limbs as her arms arced out and she laced her fingers with his. He took note of the small blush that seemed to creep through her cheeks and down her neck to her collar bone. Every small quirk of her lips he noticed and memorized. He wasn't sure why he was feeling this way about her. Zuko could only attribute it to the fact that he'd had so little time for a love life that being in the presence of a woman was a thrill for him, and yet, he couldn't deny that it was something about her. He knew her somehow he thought. He wasn't sure when he'd met her or if it was just wishful thinking. She felt so familiar and comforting. The recognition was there hovering on the cusp of his thoughts, ready to manifest itself at any moment.

It wasn't until she linked her arm around his waist that he realized they'd already danced through a set of three songs. This one had a faster beat, and he found that his feet didn't work quite as well as he thought they should. She winced as his heel landed on her toe.

"Sorry," he murmured in embarrassment.

"It's alright," she said, her voice strained.

"Maybe we should stop," he suggested as they continued on in a fast circle.

"No, no, you'll get the hang of it soon enough," she whispered into his ear.

For some reason his scar itched. It rarely did that anymore. It only felt that way when he recalled the day he'd gotten it, or when someone touched it. There, the recognition was almost there. _Dammit, why can't I remember who she is?_, he yelled inside his head.

He followed her lead as their linked arms plunged down, and the front of their bodies dipped forward past each other while she arched her leg behind her back. The others around them paid no notice, lost in their individual beats. The fast pace kept up for another two or three songs while Zuko did his best to twirl and dive with her without crushing anymore of her poor toes. The set ended with the side of her body pressed against his, both of them panting from the exertion. The music stopped abruptly as the other dancers cheered around them.

"Told you you'd like it once you got into it," she taunted with a playful grin.

"How did you know?" he questioned, hoping to gain some sort insight as to who she was.

"I was the same way when someone wanted me to dance. I was terrified as first, but it's fun once you get into, isn't it?" she said as she moved her body away from his.

"Yeah, it is," he mumbled, already missing the presence of her. _Don't be stupid, Zuko, why are you acting this way? She's just some woman._

She smiled and turned her head away as someone stepped upon a makeshift dais at the center of the room.

"I would like to thank everyone for attending tonight's celebration. It was truly something to behold, a show of the unity and brotherhood that may be accomplished among the nations," the person stated.

Zuko could tell from the gravelly voice and exaggerated dragon mask that it was Iroh speaking. He smiled to himself. His uncle always was the better diplomat.

"Now however, tonight must regretfully come to a close. It is time for the unmasking!" the old man shouted as he lifted his cup into the air.

Everyone shouted with excitement as they pulled off their disguises and stared in astonishment at the person they'd been dancing with. Zuko began to untie his mask when he saw the woman lift off her veiled hat. There was a brief glittering as the light bounced off of something nestled in the hollow of her throat. _That necklace._

_Oh by the spirits, it's her. It's . . ._The young lady began to wipe off her make up with the long sleeve of her robe, revealing the face he had not been expecting.

Katara smiled up at him.

_How could I not have known?_ he thought.

"Well, aren't you going to take your mask off?" she said as she reached up to help him.

He ripped it away before she could get her fingers around the edges of it, and let it hang limply in his hand by his side.

"Hello, Lady Katara," he greeted her as he took a bow.

"Z-Zuko?" she said in disbelief, her jaw hanging open in surprise.

He nodded slowly, trying to give her his best smile. His heart was pounding in his chest at the realization he'd been having that reaction towards her of all people.

"By La, it's been so long since I've seen your face!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck, completely unaware of the growing tension between them.

"Yes, it has," he mumbled into her hair as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.

"You haven't changed a bit," she said warmly as she stood back and held him out at arm's length.

"Neither have you," he responded, a lump in his throat.

"How many years has it been? Two, three?" she asked.

"Four," he replied, fighting the urge to shrug off her touch and embrace her again at the same time.

"It's really been that many years," she whispered sadly, something flitting across her face before she replaced it with another sweet smile. "I guess I don't realize how much time passes being in the village and all. This is the first time I've been away from home in quite some time."

"Really how is everything?" he asked curiously.

"Fine. Everything's fine," she said softly.

A thick silence fell between them as they registered just how long it had truly been since they'd last seen each other.

"Well, I guess I'd better go to bed," Zuko said awkwardly, trying his best to end this strange conversation.

"You're right," she answered. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Zuko, Prince Zuko."

With that, she turned and walked through the other departing guests. Zuko's eyes followed her the entire time, unable to bring himself to tear them away from her. He was confused to say the least about the reaction she'd elicited from him. He wasn't sure if it good or bad or just plain stupid. He watched in sudden fascination as she walked up to a man still wearing his mask. He pulled it off and revealed a bald head and a blue arrow tattooed onto it. Aang, the Avatar. Her husband. Zuko suddenly remembered that he'd heard they'd gotten married some years ago on the spur of the moment. _Well, that settles that_, he thought bitterly as he turned to retreat back to his room.

* * *

Zuko sat up straight in bed, his head turning frantically from side to side as muffled shouts traveled down the hall to his room. It sounded like it was coming from the guest rooms. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his broadswords leaning against the wall, and dashed out of the room down the hallway. The guards in the hall gave startled cries as their prince raced past them. _They didn't hear it?_ he thought in annoyance as he slid around a sharp corner. _The guards must be growing soft._

He slid the dual swords out of their sheath as his bare feet thumped against the wooden floor. The guest rooms were just down this hallway and another turn. Terror seized his heart as he contemplated the events that might cause the yelling. Zuko was a light sleeper, and over the years he had learned that though things looked peaceful on the surface, they were anything but. There was no doubt in his mind that there were conspiracies to see that he didn't take the throne. Azula was still alive after all. Perhaps, one of them had finally plucked up the courage to strike. He could just imagine the kind of chaos that would ensue if some high ranking noble was killed at the palace.

The prince skidded around that last corner, and stood still for a moment listening intently. The shouts came again. It sounded like a man and a woman. There were no guards in this area. Fire Nation soldiers still made many people from other nations nervous and uncomfortable. So he'd let them bring their own as a sign of trust. He began to regret that decision now. He ran towards the room where the yelling had come from and lifted a leg to kick the door down.

Just then the door opened. Katara stood in front of him, clutching her robe closed with one hand and holding the door open with the other. Her dark hair was tangled around her face and her eyes were blood shot. She seemed very tired and upset.

"Yes, Prince Zuko?" she asked, clearly wanting to get back to bed.

"I heard shouting. I wanted to make sure that everyone was alright."

"Everyone's fine. I'm sorry that we woke you up."

"What was the shouting about?"

She looked down at her feet in embarrassment for a moment. "Me and Aang just had a fight that's all."

He leveled a look at her. "About what?" he asked suspiciously.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Don't worry. It isn't anything that concerns you or the past."

He gave a sigh of relief. "Good. I was just worried he'd . . ."

"No, he hasn't."

"Where is he?" he looked over her shoulder into the bedroom. Nothing seemed to be broken.

"He left as usual," she said, her tone mingled with fatigue and disgust.

"Do you want me to look for him?"

She shook her head. "No, he'll come back. He always does."

"Oh, ok." Zuko shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Do you need to talk about it or anything?" he offered awkwardly. He felt like he should do something to help. After all, he'd come sprinting down the hallway like there was an angry moose-lion after him.

"No, but thanks," she said.

"Uh, well then g-" he started.

Katara interrupted him by brushing the tips of her fingers over the old scar on his torso. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't even noticed he'd been standing there half naked in the hallway. Spirits, if anyone else saw this, what they would think?

"It doesn't bother you still, does it?" she asked innocently as she withdrew her touch and Zuko could breathe again.

"Not very often," he breathed.

"Good," she answered simply, stepping back to close the door.

"Yeah."

"Good night, Prince Zuko."

"Good night, Lady Katara."

Then she closed the door and Zuko walked back to his own room.

**That's the first real chapter of this story. I'm trying to keep everything the same according the finale, except for Zuko being Fire Lord. It just works out better that way for what I have planned. I know it was heavy on the dialogue, and I'm sorry for that. This story will kind of start out slow, but I promise you I have big things in store. Anyways, thanks for reading this and tell me what think. I know I'm no Fandomme, but I try.**


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